Mona
by UnexplainableTendencies
Summary: What do you do when everyone you know dies but you? What do you do when all you know is pain and despair? What do you do? What, what can you do? My name is Mona Ella Meyer and my life has been nothing but pain, just ruthless pain...A story of Mona...
1. Chapter 1

_Chapter One_

_What do you do when everyone you know dies but you?_

_What do you do when all you know is pain and despair?_

_What do you do?_

_What, what can you do?_

My name is Mona Ella Meyer and my life has been nothing but pain, just ruthless pain. Life is nothing but one thing to my father. Life is like any other product. It can be thrown aside and it can be held close by. It is disposable.

At the young and helpless age of five, my dear brother Benjamin was killed. To the knowledge of any other on the sidelines, he died bravely. He was said to be murdered by a thief in the mansion trying to steal my father's gold. He was defending and protecting the King, our father. He died a knight's death. He died with honor. But truly, his death was a lie.

I saw him die at the helpless age of five. He was in father's chamber discussing what was supposed to be the security plans around the city barriers. I didn't fully hear their discussion because it was cut short. What I did hear was them arguing about something. I heard the name Dona. I had never heard such a name in my life before that day. It came to my knowledge as time passed; Dona was the root cause for everything wrong in my life.

It was a heated argument. The gentle brother I knew with all my heart was red as a cherry. The veins in his head and neck were popping up to the surface under his skin. The majestic voice he got from his father boomed through the room and halls like thunder. The knuckles on his soft large hands were snow white and shook with anger. The bones of his body were ridged and jerky, totally out of control. He was just so angry, throwing papers into the air to scatter on the floor, pushing books off the shelves to crash upon the marble tile; throwing his hands in the air making some point that I did not understand. He was rabid. He was really shaking with fury like I have never seen. He was such a gentle person. He was my closest and only true ally. I couldn't think of anything that could make him so angry to scream out like never before.

In the middle of the heated discussion, I was spotted by him. He stopped his rampage almost instantly. The color nearly left him completely. His voice was almost entirely gone. Through the small crack upon the door, I stood tall enough to be exactly the height of the doorknob. I was so small. Only he could have spotted me because like any true brother, he would always be looking for me at heart.

Keeping clenched fists so tight that he shook even more, he starred down at the floor embarrassed. I knew he wasn't trying to make a scene. His eyes wandered over the mess he made and down to the feet of his father and to the crack of the open door. Swaying to and fro, uneasy, he finally took a deep breath and kept his head down low.

I didn't see my father's face but his broad strong shoulders under his cloak. I didn't see him react at all when my brother started walking slowly away from him to the door. My brother mumbled something so low that I couldn't hear, but his eyes were on me.

Heading for the door, he smiled one of those brotherly smiles that he had. He looked ready for my questions like always. He always seemed more relaxed when away from everything. He was 3 feet from the door when my father mumbled something. It was a mix between the words 'betray' and 'ashamed' but he turned around. He had the same exact look he had when he would kill a simple slave. His eyes looked blank and faded like he wasn't even there.

Whatever he said, my brother froze. He stared at me with fear. His eyes were wide and he went deathly pale. Through quivering lips he mouthed a message. I got the words 'run' and 'don't come back'. The water in his eyes glistened and shimmered, running down his cheeks.

I never saw my father pull out his gun that was specially made. I never heard that click of a loaded gun. I never heard the horrible bang of a fired pistol. I only saw my brother's body shoot forward on the tips of his toes, his hands fly to the blood showered wound upon his heart, him fall to his knees, and the crimson red. That red was all I could see. It was on my dear brother, it was on the floor, and the walls. That red was a symbol of death. That red was so ugly.

I swore my heart was the banging of a drum. It was so loud. My breathing was a strong wind outside a window. It took all of me not to dash into that room and clutch my brother in my arms and beg and plead to the lord to not take him, but he was already dead. I knew it was the cold truth but couldn't believe it. My eyes wandered around the floor following the blood river to the feet of my father and up. I saw the gun. I saw the blood upon his robes. I saw his eyes and he saw mine.

I ran. I ran and ran and ran. I went down curving halls, down winding stairs, through libraries and sitting rooms. I ran from room to room to room. In each room I found nothing. I don't know what I was looking for in the rooms but none of them had it. I knew I was being chased. I knew it. I could hear the slow taps of his royal slippers. I could hear the flap of his cloak. Most of all, I could hear my heart beat faster and faster with each empty room. There wasn't an escape from what I saw or from what was behind me.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

_In each room there was a large window looking _

_Out over the city of Meyer._

_If you would look down upon the ground five long stories away, _

_You would only see the hard concrete._

_There would be no soft grass to roll in or a garden of daisies. _

_Just hard concrete around the whole mansion was there to welcome you._

_Out those windows, was nothing to be seen but a city_

_Of despair. _

_The City of Meyer. _

I stopped in the room at the end of the hall, the libraries, the lobbies, and the studies. I stopped at the room that looked out over the gates of Meyer. I stopped at the room with the largest window. I stopped at the room that was once, just moments ago, my brother's.

I hid childishly behind the side of the bed where I have always hid. Every time I hid there, my brother would pat my head and chant a lullaby to comfort my worries. He always found me here. It was my own room as much as it was his. I lived and breathed this room. I ended up here every time I ran. With each breathe the pain came harder and stronger at the memory of him there on the floor. The blood streaming out of him, the breaths I took that he did not have, killed me.

After moments I heard the soft taps of my father's shoes outside the door. I heard the annoying creak of the door and saw his dark tall shadow stretch across the room.

I began to shake, I began to tremble, I began to quiver, and I began to jump at every sound. I could see nothing but that horrible crimson red. That ugly red was on the curtains, the bed, the floor, and my hands. I rubbed and rubbed but the red remained.

There was a loud tap right to my right. I froze in my panic of the ugly red. My eyes followed the dark shadow to the soles of his shoes, up his legs, up his waist, and over his broad shoulders to his face. I saw nothing but a dark shadow. I saw nothing but his large hands getting closer and closer. Those hands, those hands that held that gun were coming at me. Those hands that killed my brother, those hands that were blood stained, those hands were coming to get me. I began to panic. My heart raced and stopped.

I don't really remember what happened after that. I know I stood and tried to dart past him but he grabbed my arm and flung me back. The force was too much. He may have intended to throw me that hard or it may have been just an adrenaline rush. All I know was that I was yanked back, off my feet, toward what I thought was a wall. The impact was hard and painful. I heard the shatter and crack of glass behind my head. I didn't even realize I was just thrown into the window until I slid back down onto the floor. The blood was my blood. The glass was covered with my blood on the floor.

My long dirty blonde hair dangled over my shoulders. They looked like they were covered in punch. I didn't understand it. I saw a shadow that led to the door. It was wide open and he was at least three feet away. I had a chance if I would get up, let alone run.

I took that chance and stood up and ran. I was suddenly dizzy and began to fall over. A large hand caught me but not to prevent me from falling but to pull me back.

I was thrown harder, so hard that I heard him grunt. This time, I felt my body crash into the glass. This time I felt the pieces pierce my clothing and skin as I went through. This time, I felt the warm turn to cold. This time, I heard the wind. This time, I did not see the dark ceiling but the blue sky. I saw my hands in front of me; I saw my hair wrap and tangle above me. With each moment, my brother's window and sky got farther and farther away. I couldn't think. I just saw that figure in the window with a satisfied smile. The pain was clear that I couldn't think of what was coming. I didn't know until I hit. I let out a sudden scream that hurt my throat. My eyes went wide as the wind was knocked out of me. Then everything cracked with a crunching sound. I flew back up and down again. My body was dead and my mind was clouded.

It was so painful. I could feel everything. The sharp throbbing pain in my head and back, the sharp twinge in my legs and arms, and the ache in my throat were just so crystal clear. It was impossible to think of anything else. My body felt like a rag doll spread out across the floor, helpless, lifeless, and unmoving.

I just watched the sky, watched the birds, and watched the trees nearby sway back and forth. It felt cold. Something was running down my sides and around my figure. It was sticky. It was red. It was blood. I would have had panicked if I wasn't paralyzed. My breathing quickened. My fingers twitched. I felt like I was drowning. I felt like I was completely emerged in the red. I was dead inside.

I heard running steps. There was more than one pair. I heard panicky voices but didn't pay attention. All I knew was that the edges of my vision were turning red then black. All I knew was that my heart was struggling to beat a next beat. I could feel my crushed lungs fighting to stay pumping. It went dark in my life of complete pain and the life of unreason began.


	3. Chapter 3

_Chapter Three_

_Life started out rough,_

_Painful,_

_And heart wrenching._

_After hearing shattering glass, being nearly beaten, _

_And watching my brother die by his father's gun,_

_I feel as if I have finally awakened to the world of hatred and death._

_Life is not what I thought it was._

_The slaves and maids that did my chores starve and go unpaid._

_The teachers that teach me go home to poor families._

_Me, I'm in the middle of the whole thing._

_For the first time,_

_My eyes are truly open and I see the world_

_For what it truly is._

_Hell. _

I woke up to a world of lies. After that fall or attempted murder, I finally saw the world for what it really was. It was a ruthless world full of pain and poverty. The poor worked for the wealthy and the wealthy repaid them for their hard labor by doing what? The wealthy spit on their whelped backs and send them on another impossible task. What kills me the most is that I am among the wealthy.

That day I passed into a dangerous state of unconsciousness. I was carried away by guards to the Meyer family doctor. I was claimed to be dead at first sight but my heart remained straining for the next beat. I kept breathing through crushed lungs. My bones were shattered. Blood was pouring out of me like a faucet and yet I kept on. The only thing the doctor could say was that it was a miracle for at least one Meyer child to survive. Although, I wish I was dead.

My mother neither spoke nor looked at me. I kept my distance. I began to wander around in the rural areas. The houses were nothing more but piles of mud and sticks. Doors were rags and the floor was solid dirt. I had never been outside the mansion gates and never thought of it. Now, I was outside the gate and looking in. For the longest time, the only thing keeping me sane in that mansion was my brother. I think it was the same for him. Now that he is gone, my insanity is coming up to the surface and the gates are looking more and more like my prison cell. I feel trapped when in the mansion. Outside and looking in, I feel normal. I feel like I had never felt before, alive.

Outside the gates, the air seems more polluted yet freer. The ground is nothing but dirt and rocks, not solid concrete. It feels more natural. The sky seems bluer and at peace. When the wind blows my long hair can dance without judgment. I can laugh and shout without being scolded. I can run and fall without a second glance. I can be me and I can be free without someone watching every step I take. Outside the gates, the poor live hard lives but their lives are freer than mine.

Each day in my recovery, I went outside the gates to do small chores that I found to do. I would help some small child fetch wood or help some elderly man fetch water. I could help make supper with a mother for her family. I got my hands dirty but I never liked them clean. My gowns would rip and tear but one can't work in such fabric.

With each day, I became more and more active. With each day, I left the mansion earlier and earlier for longer and longer hours. I stopped wearing stiff gowns and started wearing my brother's old pants. Sure, I got stared at and I heard whispers behind my back but I didn't care. I was being what I wanted to be. I was being me.

I began stick fighting with the boys down Lazy Lane. Everyone down there was retired so they were extremely lazy. There were a lot of chores to do down there so I went to help a lot of the time. That's where I met the boys. They made fun of me a lot but I toughened up. I threw rocks and hit and bit. They taught me how to fight and didn't hold back. A lot of the time in the beginning, I went back to the mansion with black eyes and broken fingers. I never really cared. A few broken fingers and bruises never came close to the pain I have known.

On the day of my tenth birthday, I was leaving my bedroom early in the morning. There was a loud crash on the floor above mine. There wasn't anything on that floor but my parent sleeping chamber, a library, and my brother's old sleeping chamber. From what I could remember, I believe I was under my parent's room.

I had grown up to teach myself to keep out of my parent's quarrels because they happen too often to bring my divided attention to each one. I was about to continue down the hall until I heard a cry of pain. I froze with my hands shaking. My heart was pounding under my ribs. I just couldn't bear to hear such a sound. I and my mother never talked nor did we acknowledge the others presence. We never have. I was her child and that was all there was to the matter. Even though I was not close to her like a normal child, I did not hate her. Just hearing that cry of pain was enough to make my heart break.

Turning around to face the opposite direction, I heard another cry of pain. My hands closed to fists. My breathing quickened to a pant. And, my heart raced faster than the fastest horse.

I ran up the staircase to the floor above. When I landed, I saw a dark hall with one cracked door. Little light shone through but I knew she was there. Glancing right and left, I backed myself up against the wall and made my way to their door. With each step I swore my breathing was getting louder. With each sound, I jumped. Every time my hand brushed against a frame or another door, my heart must have stopped. With each step, I prayed and prayed to turn back until I reached their door.

When I reached their door, I slowly looked in. Holding my breath, I braced myself for what I would see. I saw what I wish wasn't there. I saw my mother upon the floor with her hair fanned out. She had such long, long hair. It reached down to the floor and she was not a short woman.

She was curled up, crying. It was as if she was hiding her face from him though I couldn't see where he was. Around her lay books from the shelves, broken vases, and scattered papers. It was the common layout of their quarrels. They often fought over tiny matters but never before had she cried out like she did. I couldn't imagine what had happened for I couldn't see her face.

A shadow covered the door and I quickly backed against the wall. I slid down to the floor and covered my mouth with my hands trying to hide my thunderous breathing. Then, I heard the voice of my mother. It was quiet and hard to understand. Her voice quivered and shook uncontrollably. I listened closely.

"Benjamin please reconsider! You don't have to do this!" My mother cried through her tears. I had no idea what he should reconsider. I never knew what they were arguing about. I never seemed to know the reason for these things. Then, there was no sound but uneven breathing.

Until, his booming voice appeared like thunder in a peaceful sky.

"There is nothing to reconsider! My decision is final and you follow my order for you are just a woman!" That right there was an example of hitting below the belt.

My mother couldn't stand it when people judged by gender. Although I prayed and prayed, my mother did exactly what I wish she hadn't. She raised her voice like the rebel she was.

"I being a woman has nothing to do with these matters Benjamin! There is everything to reconsider! For Christ sakes, she is just a child!"

My breathing stopped and my attention caught entirely. Child? What child? Could they be talking about me? What was going on?

"Child or not she is of the Meyer name! Therefore, she will be a part of the Meyer rule! This disagreement is over."

What? They have to be talking about me right? I have to be a part of what Meyer rule?

Then, my mother's voice grew and grew until the bottom floor could most likely hear her. I still could not move from where I sat.

"This disagreement is not over and will never be over! Mona is a child! She is nothing more to you! Just because she seems more similar to the son you yourself killed does not mean she should be forced into being the next heir of the Meyer City!"

What?

"If she can wield a sword as well as she can wield a stick, then there is no other better candidate for the thrown."

"She cannot be a king or a General for the Meyer City if she does not wish to be! I, her mother can see that she doesn't!"

"How in Hell can you see such a thing when you, yourself doesn't even speak or acknowledge her! She may wish to become the greatest fighter!"

"You are one to talk! You have no right to lecture me not acknowledging her, when you were the one who tried to kill her! If she couldn't wield a stick let alone a sword, you wouldn't even care for her existence!"

"And you would?"

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. My heart just slowed more and more with each word. They were fighting over me. He wanted me alive to be the heir of Meyer City because I could wield a stick? I couldn't believe what I was hearing. I was half waiting for my mother's response to that question. There was a long silence. With each second, my heart came closer to a stop.

"I will always love Mona! She is my daughter whether I wanted her or not!"

Whether she wanted me…or not?

"Oh stop complaining about the past! You had a child, get over it! You should be happy enough to bare my children other than being a servant like you used to be!"

"I cannot lie that this is a better life than the life I would have had but I never asked to be raped!"

With the end of that sentence, I felt dead inside. I was learning too much in one day. All of this was my father's doing. I couldn't change that.

"You know Maria, one can't rape the willing."

Such words, such words couldn't be spoken even from the father of my own.

"Ah, I can't believe you! You took me from my home! You threw my helpless young body upon a bed and declared me your bride! You raped me, Benjamin! If I did not welcome you, then I am not willing!", she took a shaky breath and started again, "Why me huh? How could you choose me out of hundreds of women in the same city to take?"

"You were just there. I didn't choose you. I grabbed an arm and declared you mine. I didn't care if you were pretty, I didn't care where you stood, all I needed was a woman to bare my children and that's what I got!"

"Is that all I am to you? A body?"

"I suppose you can say that."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. How could my father be so cruel? I didn't know any of this. I knew my mom was a rebel but I didn't know about all of this. Where was the love? Where was the story of the lion loving the lamb? Was it ever there?

Then, in the quietest voice, I heard my mother whisper a whimper of words. I got what I could.

"And what about Dona, huh? Can she wield a stick? She is of the Meyer name."

"That's enough Maria."

"Oh that's right. You got two when you only needed one so you sent the other away."

"Enough, Maria."

"I go through all that pain to find out that you just sent the other away because you didn't need it! If you didn't need Dona, why didn't you just kill her like you did your son? You didn't need him right? If you didn't need her, why did you keep her?"

"I didn't want to throw away something when I didn't know if I needed it or not."

"So Dona was just a thing that would be put aside for later use? That girl is who knows where, causing ciaos but you just look past it? She gets everything she wants. She kills anyone who disagrees, and you just look past it? She is you!"

"Enough."

"You don't care who lives or who dies! Everything and everyone is just a disposable thing to you!"

"Enough!"

"You took my son away from this world and you have ruined Mona for good! Now you want to pull her in to this hell we call being the heir? No! I will not just stand by and watch you just use my tainted children!"

"Maria! Enough!"

"I may have looked past them and ignored them because they where unwanted children from the pain and struggle of rape but I do not want them to suffer because of you! You already took one child of mine and ruined the other because of it!"

"Benjamin chose his own fate when going against me!"

"He went against you because he knows what is right! He went against you because he loves his sister!"

"Enough Maria! Enough!"

"No! this is not enough!"

"ENOUGH!"

The booming voices shock the pictures that hung on the walls. I never knew my mother felt this way. I didn't know who this Dona was but I did know that my father was nothing but evil. The heart in my body clenched through the stress. I wanted nothing more but to speak up to him like my mother. I wanted nothing more but to scream my heart out of the pain of losing my brother five years ago. I wanted nothing more but to hug my mother for I have never hugged her before.

The shadow moved away from the door and_ I_ peeked back in. I couldn't see them but I saw their shadows. It looked like they were…hugging. Though, I know that wasn't right. One shadow moved away from the other out of view. My heart just started quickening like before. Then, I saw my mother come back into view. She looked pale. Her long, long hair that reached to the floor looked as if it was trying to trip her. I wanted to go and hold it out of the way for her. I wanted to defend her like I wanted to for my brother, though I didn't exactly know what I would be defending.

Suddenly she saw me out of the corner of her eye. She just froze, starring at me. I didn't want her to get my father's curious attention by looking at me too long. I began to freak and started to make funny faces. I was trying to make her look away. I failed miserably. She only brought a hand up over her mouth to hide her exhausted giggles. I knew I was done for.

"What are you laughing at Maria!"

She quickly stopped, but continued to smile. She was very clever.

"I was only thinking on how foolish our quarrels are dear."

She seemed so confident. I didn't know how she did it, but she did. She nodded her head and began for the door. I began to stand and back away, when I heard his voice once again.

"Where do you think you're going Maria?"

We both stopped dead. She slowly looked over to him out of my seeing range. She pointed to the door as if he was stupid. That was a smart thing to do. I began to panic. This seemed too familiar! I couldn't stop thinking back on my brother's death. It happened just like this. He angered my father and spotted me. Trying to leave, he got killed. I didn't want the same thing to happen with her.

The click of a loaded gun echoed through the silence. The screech of the trigger being pulled was heard. The loud bang took the place of my beating heart. It took all of me not to scream. It took all of me not to run into the room to my mother.

I saw it all as if it were pictures. I saw the pain on her face and the jerk of her body. I saw the thousand strains of hair fly and fan out. I saw the blood spray from her skull like a wine bottle. Her knees gave way and he body crumbled to the floor. All I could do was stare at the forming pool of red. It just kept growing and growing. All that red, all that red just grew.

A sudden sound broke my gaze. I didn't stop to think of what to do. I just ran back down the hall and down the stairs upon stairs until I was outside. I didn't stop. I never looked back. I just kept running and running, trying to stop the water in my eyes. I just kept running until I hit the border and had to turn back.

My thoughts were clouded on what just happened. I kept seeing picture upon picture on scenes that mocked me. I kept seeing the red. I kept seeing the blood. My trembling body trembled to no end. My knees shook and threatened to give way until I broke down in the middle of the city. I cried and cried until I felt drained of all water. Nobody stopped to aid me. Nobody stopped to stare. I was just another crying person in the streets. Nobody even knew it was me the royalty.

I walked back slower than the slow. The closer I got, the more I shook, the more I trembled, and the slower I got. I reached the gates and looked up to the fifth story window for which was fixed five years past. There stood a dark shadow none other than the man responsible for two murders. That man was none other than my ugly father. I wanted nothing more but for him to die the same painful death he bestowed upon others. I wanted nothing more but to make him realize the pain he has caused. I would give anything to know the secrets he kept from me. I could care less about being the heir. I could care less about being about to wield a sword or fire a gun.

All I knew was that the life that was once my own was no longer there. I was introduced to a new emotion other than being unstable. This new life was triggered by the pistol that was owned by my father. This new emotion was no hotter than the spark of that mans gun. My loathing hate was no more ragging than the fire that rose in my body. I had a goal that would be fulfilled before my dying day. I would kill my father or take him down with me.


End file.
